For you
by Doggyrooroo
Summary: A one -shot about Harley in the hours after Grantly's death. R.I.P Grantly.


_For you;_

_If I could pray your pain away, I surely would. If I could hold you fast until your pain had passed, I'd try. If I could cry your weary tears, well dry, I'd weep. All I have are words and words alone. But these few words, I have hewn from dank and unyielding pits and torn by wretched, tattered hands. In charcoal, dark from bitter brittle stone. These are my words, and I have polished them. For you._

In the mere hours that passed the paramedics calling him dead, dead on scene, I found myself perched on the steps at the school house. I couldn't go in, face the others. All I could think about was Maggie and how she must be feeling right now. Everywhere I stand, all the rooms remind me of the moments we'd spent. The kitchen table empty, I'd climbed the stairs to his room, where he'd laid, the dialysis machine, it was supposed to help, give him time. I'd learnt about it in science, failure, but I'd learnt that people make it and those who don't, their bodies gave up, how could he be one of those? We all thought he was a right prat sometimes, an olden day teacher, one of those that were so old fashioned. He was stubborn; you couldn't bargain or reason with him. But he was there; he got me into reading, he changed my life, my life was better for letting him in.

I remember when I sat outside with him after his wife died, seeing the tears threatening to spill, a pain; I'd wished I could feel that heartbreak, well I did feel it or I feel it more now. I gave him that book, the one I used after Nan passed. Now I feel what it would have been like. I understand. Folded into creases, torn and ripped is the poem; For You. The school had lost someone who was irreplaceable.

For me, he'd taught me to read, to understand literature and the wider world. For me, he got me out of trouble when I got with the wrong crowds. For me, he'd been like a father. For me, he'd just been there. For him, I'd seen him so sick and vulnerable. For him, I'd seen tears fall with a hidden story that I'd never understand. For him, I'd seen men fall down to their knees. For him, I'd written this poem, the only thing that could describe what I'd felt, what I believed in, what I had prayed for to the heavens that he'd be ok. It appears God isn't one to keep promises; people get sick and they die. People leave and people cry.

I'd have to tell Phoenix; how would he react? What would they do for his death, have a tree in his name? Something so beautiful, the blooming tree, the little shrub growing out of the earth, contrasting with the death of a weary man. How had he felt about my poem, he'd never have the chance to hear me finish it. I'd tried to complete my words again, whispering to the sky, he'd see me from up above; the rain came down. When it grows, I'd have to climb it; I could see the world and when I hold on tightly, nothing will knock me down. I'll read him all sorts from Shakespeare, to Dickens. Of Mice and Men, circular novels with the dreams of a better life; what would he dream of? Maybe next time the fight is on I could win him the bet back.

I wrote another poem on a piece of lined paper, to align next to the tree: For you part 2. For you, I'm sad to see you go. For you, there will always be hope though. For you, I believe the pain has gone through; this is all I wanted for you. It will never be the same without you, but I'll remember what you achieved and everything you wanted for me. I still have words, words deep down. They'll come out, they will I assure you. I'll remember you. Remember the times, the laughs, the cries, I hope you see her again, but life on and never forget.

or Miss…..Croft I guess it is now walked back in the door then, coat draped over her arm tightly, rubbing at the corner of her eye, mascara all smudged. I did what I promised I could do, I hugged her. When I pulled back, the tears were flowing from both of us; the poem For You in her hands. For now this poem having been about Grantly; he'd got that better life, she was the one who needed pain to be taken now, she didn't have a medical condition but I heard you can die from a broken heart. It always made me feel better when Phoenix gave me a hug. I read her the poem; I knew it off by heart and it was something I would never forget, just like Grantly Budgen.

_Look into my eyes, this can't be right, this cannot be the end, we have to fight this, I'll give you the sun, keep it united. This cannot be the end; I've seen the light this time._


End file.
